Accidental Interaction
by BulletTheBlueSkyU2
Summary: One small decision put her in the right place at the right time. An accident allowed him to be there, too. Was their meeting a happy accident? Or had fate come knocking? Only time will tell. Remus/OC
1. A Fortunate Meeting

_They say everything that happens is ultimately a result of one small action. Perhaps your future as a lover may have been instigated and sealed with as minimal a gesture as succumbing to your cookie craving and deciding to visit the market. In other words, perhaps you may meet your forthcoming spouse on a midnight snack run. I hope you remembered to wear your face! One tiny decision led me to where I was now – regretting nothing but the opportunity to be with him forever. Would it be too late to get what I want?_

I clutched my armful of books tighter while raising my left hand high enough to see my watch over the miniature leather-bound tower I balanced on one arm.

10:10

_I've got fifty minutes, _I thought to myself as I looked around for a reputable place to grab a drink quickly before dashing to the train station.

Getting back to London, I stopped abruptly, glanced up, and noticed the rustic wooden identification of perhaps the most logical place to acquire libations anywhere near Diagon Alley – the Leaky Cauldron.

Backing into the doorway as carefully as my balance would allow, I inched inward and took a seat at a long benched table. I dropped my books in a stack beside me and inadvertently caused a few to tumble off the top and land disheveled on the table in my hasty dismissal of their weight from my clutches. The sounds of livelihood were heard all around the interior of this nostalgic establishment; screams of children, clashing of cutlery and plates, and the joyous sounds of fellowship could be identified through the mix of conversations and entrees.

On the bench on the other side of the table from me rested two tattered trunks. Either they were newly acquired secondhand vessels, or had been passed down for generations.

I turned my attention away from the luggage and focused on what I would get to drink. As there was no menu, I quickly racked my brain for the various magical drinks I could choose from - when something disturbed me from my thoughts.

"I don't care what you have to do! Find my things and find them quickly! I have a train to catch!" a voice shouted above the sounds of the inn.

I shot a quick glance in the direction of the voice and noticed it came from a man whose face was marked with age and battle scars. His hair was parted to the side in a gentlemanly, yet messy manner, oddly reminiscent of a puppy dog. I stared longer at his scars, noting the appearance of a struggle of some kind. I wanted know how they were acquired, what had happened, and, most strangely, I longed to run my fingers over them and probe further into this mysterious man's life. My abnormal thoughts were again disturbed by a shout, though not from the same man.

"Marille!" the innkeeper bellowed loudly as he slammed his hand down repeatedly over a small attention bell.

A moment later, a stout woman, dressed in modest cleaning attire, scrambled down the one story wooden staircase and stumbled toward the counter. Her loosely curled hair was thrown up in a rather messy bun, more hideous than fashionable, and her expression was one of sheer boredom and un-amusement.

Before acknowledging her superior, her entire body heaved in a great sigh of attitude, an obvious gesture of disapproval at being whistled for like a slave or a young child.

"Yea, sir?" she said in one great breath.

"This gentleman appears to have misplaced his baggage. Go upstairs and rumm-" he was not even finished speaking before she boldly interrupted him.

"Is's noh upstairs anymore, sir, 'tis righ heeah!" she croaked out in a thick accent while pointing at the tattered luggage I had been analyzing only moments before.

A smile lit up the gentleman's face and he instantly rushed to the table to retrieve it, stumbling a bit over the bench and shoving the table into my chest slightly.

"Oh, I'm sorry! My mother always told me I was born with two left feet!" he joked in an effort to wash away the embarrassment.

"Don't worry about it!" I exclaimed gently, even though I was slightly annoyed.

His face turned a deeper shade of red when he looked fully into my face after moving the table back to its original position. The man continued to stare, perhaps too long, into my eyes

He chuckled abruptly and declared "I don't believe we've been properly introduced! I'm Remus." He held out his hand in token of friendship, which I accepted instantaneously and gave my name, "Martha," with a grin.

I was not dressed as a student, but truth be told, neither was he. He wore long gray slacks, a loose grey jumper and wingtip shoes, a fashion accessory rarely seen on men under age 30, thus automatically placing him in the category of 30+.

I had always been attracted to older men – in my youth, I had found older men much more enticing simply because they were more mature and responsible than the boys my age. I didn't exactly look like a student myself, however. My long, flame-colored hair and blue eyes had most fooled into believing I was at least in my twenties when I was only seventeen. Starting puberty a year before receiving my Hogwarts letter had provided me with an outlook of one years ahead of my actual age.

Just then someone came by to take my drink order.

"What'll it be?" the middle aged woman asked haughtily.

"Two butterbeers, please," Remus said quickly and the waitress pranced away with no further ado. I glanced at him with a confused look on my face.

"I figured after physically disturbing you with my clumsiness, the least I can do is buy you a drink," he said with a grin.

"Fair enough," I laughed in retort.

"So, _Martha_, tell me a bit about yourself," he politely demanded.

"Wait a minute, your clumsiness is the reason I'm in this spotlight now – I think you should go first."

The very last thing I needed to do was tell a man I had just met, a man obviously years older than myself, that I am a seventh year student at Hogwarts, no job, and live with my parents.

"Fair enough," he intentionally quoted my earlier response.

The waitress came back immediately with our drinks, allowing the chatting to ensue while quenching our thirst.

"I'm a great reader," he stated, but chuckled as soon as he realized that meaning could be taken in a juvenile way. "I mean, I do enjoy reading very much."

I gestured to my immense stack of books with a smirk before replying. He laughed rather delightfully, leaning his head over slightly, attempting to glance at the gold titles on the binding of each book, curious to know whether my tower of books was for business or pleasure.

We continued in this manner – dancing back and forth between each other's lives – revealing very little, but just enough to keep the other interested. I eliminated the fact that I was a student; he left out his profession. I concealed my age; he didn't begin to explain how his face earned its markings. Just as I began to realize I may be happy listening to his voice for the rest of my life, I remembered the train.

"Oh no!" I exclaimed abruptly as I glanced down at my wristwatch.

_10:45_

"What? What is it?" he asked, concerned.

"I'm -I'm meeting someone – I've got to go!" I yelped ungracefully as I rounded up my books in a hurried fashion.

"Will I see you again?" his eyes widened desperately as I turned to go.

"Let's leave that to fate, shall we?" I winked back at him and turned to run through the doorframe – hoping – praying – that we would meet again.


	2. All Aboard the Hogwarts Express

On my dash to the train station, a myriad of thoughts plagued my head as I hurried to meet my classmates on 9 ¾. Leaving Remus, although difficult, was absolutely necessary in the interest of time, as well as a little tip my mother raised me to understand.

"_Never chase after a man. Men are like dogs, they like the chase – the hunt. Keep him interested by being modest and poised. He'll be dying to know everything about you." _

Needless to say, after hearing this repetitive dialogue for so many years, it was not uncommon for my mother's disembodied head to materialize every time I considered bringing anyone of the male gender into my life. How much information was too much? Could a man really be so interested knowing almost nothing about a woman? What if she were really boring after he worked so hard to obtain her? If this fact is true and men really must be the ones to chase women, then I am sure they all must be part canine.

These thoughts circling in my head, I had just enough of an open mind to dash through the platform safely to join my friends on the magical side. Jenny, Karin and Merilyn were already waiting by the last cabin on the train.

Before I proceed with my own story, I believe my friends deserve a proper introduction.

Jenny Williams was the oldest of the four of us. Being raised in an orphanage, perhaps her most glorious moment was when she was informed she had the magic touch after receiving her Hogwarts letter. Although I loved all three of these girls, Jenny was more like my sister than friend. After our first year, considering she had nowhere else to go, I brought her home to live with my family during the summer and winter breaks from school. This new homely environment built her confidence and allowed her to grow into a beautiful young woman – going from a shy, meek child to the object of many students' fantasies at Hogwarts.

Karin Lee was, in many ways, the strongest of our group. Raised by a single mother, she gained her sense of strength and power that would rival even a man at times. All the odd jobs and other masculine tasks were her responsibility, and she did them willingly, all the while knowing that the more she understood about life, the better she would be to combat its hardships. She was tough, strong, and hardheaded. It took a lot more than a few harsh words to cause her to stray from her beacon. If ever I needed some sensible advice or an extra dose of willpower, Karin was there to provide it.

Merilyn Evans has quite an interesting tale. As her parents were dead certain they were expecting a boy, they made all the arrangements to call "him" Merlin, after one of the greatest wizards of the old age. When the baby came and they understood they had a dilemma on their hands, they decided to tweak the original name to suit the feminine gender. Merilyn is pronounced as the famous muggle, Marilyn Monroe, however, it's spelled differently as a sort of homage. She truly lived up to her name; having mastered transfiguration of nearly any object by age 13, she was the first many sought out when committing any mischievous acts requiring a transformed object or animal.

All three were my closest friends – any of which I would have given up nearly anything to preserve their happiness forever. We had been through six years of Hogwarts together. Our seventh year beginning, we knew that no matter what happened, what jobs we secured, or where we ended up residing in the world, we would all remain the best of friends and as reliable as bezoars.

My luggage was already loaded on the train at my arrival – something I was exceedingly grateful for, especially considering the distance I had to travel in a short amount of time in order to make it to the train on time.

"We've already got a compartment," Merilyn said cheerfully. "It's so good to see you, Martha!" she added as she ran forward and embraced me, kissing my forehead as a token of friendship.

We all settled into a kind of group hug – exchanging pleasantries and informing each other of how missed everyone was. We always kept in contact during school breaks via owl, however, there was nothing quite like fellowshipping together in the flesh.

"Let's get on board! We don't want the train to leave without us – or some _Slytherin_ taking our cabin inside," said Karin, assuming the practical role with a dose of humor intact, as usual.

The four of us made our way into the train so quickly that I did not see a man board the train. A man wearing a grey jumper, slacks and wingtip shoes. A man carrying two secondhand trunks with him.


	3. An Unexpected Coincidence

"That was terrifying!" Merilyn said as she hopped off the train and onto the platform. "I didn't think we would make it here alive!"

"I had never even seen a dementor before," I added in a feeble attempt to bring my mind into the present time.

As we traveled to the castle, Jenny, Merilyn, and Karin continued to chat about the abrupt train halt, their expectations for the school year, and the feast we would be attending in a few minutes time.

I had not stopped thinking of Remus the entire train ride to Hogwarts. In fact, my thoughts had affected my actions and I didn't even leave the train compartment or partake in long conversation until it was time to disembark. Even when I did remark on conversation, I was a bit reserved. Would I see him again? Would fate take over and bring us together as I suggested? I had to tell myself it didn't matter anymore. I was at school and at school I would remain until graduation at the end of the year.

My thoughts had carried me all through the grounds and right to the castle entrance. As students flooded into the Great Hall, I exhaled sharply at the thought of having to endure a seventh round of first year sorting. Obviously, I was only a part of the first year, but every one after that I had to sit and endure with a smile on my face as younger students were collectively added to my house.

I was a Gryffindor – of course that was commonly regarded as the most desirable house to be in. Slytherin house was too snooty – everyone talked relentlessly of how they desired the entire wizarding world to consist of purebloods. I doubt they even truly cared; it was just a pre-recorded tape their parents put on repeat during their entire childhood. Hufflepuff students were rarely triumphant in their grander endeavors – sure we had a few great individuals rise to great success originating from that house, but in actuality, no one hoped and prayed they would be sorted into Hufflepuff. Finally, the Ravenclaw house was rather snobbish, too, at times. They were known for being smart, but if you were not sorted into Ravenclaw, it in no way tainted your ability to perform magic or meant you were not as intelligent as those in that house.

I'll never forget the day Harry Potter was sorted into our house. Members of every house were holding their breath, hoping they would be the ones to take him under their wing and become his most cherished friend and mentor throughout his years at Hogwarts. Young Draco Malfoy thought he could win over Harry, too, yet I watched him disregard his effort in one minor gesture that turned Malfoy into a full-blown enemy from that moment onward.

Professor Dumbledore's echoing voice was the only thing strong enough to bring me out of my current daze. I looked around the room at my fellow students. The houses were sorted, a few new Gryffindors were added to our company, and the feasting was about to begin.

"Welcome! Welcome to another year at Hogwarts!" he greeted the students warmly. He continued onward but I turned my attention elsewhere. Hearing only the words "dementors," "prefects," and "Head Boy and Girl," I decided it was time to start paying attention to the rest of the speech. Knowing Dumbledore, when he began speaking, he wouldn't stop until everything essential had been mentioned.

"On a happier note," I heard him say, "I am pleased to welcome two new teachers to our ranks this year."

"I wonder who the new Defense teacher is," Karin said with excitement.

"I just hope he's better than Lockhart," I said out of the corner of my lips, gaining more than a chuckle out of the three other girls. I suspect my lack of conversation the entire day had enhanced any humor I was willing to provide because it reminded them that I still had wit, even when I spent hours trapped inside a daze. I still hadn't told them anything about Remus. I decided I wouldn't mention it until fate had run its course.

"First, Professor Lupin, who has kindly consented to fill the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher," Dumbledore continued.

"There's your answer, Karin. An unknown wizard," Jenny said sarcastically.

My eyes grew wide, my breathing pace quickened, and I suddenly felt ill. The man I met this morning, the very same one I could not stop thinking of the entire ride to Hogwarts was my newest professor. Remus' eyes scanned the crowd of his new students slowly. It was only a matter of time before he recognized my face. What would he think?

Dumbledore continued speaking, but I wasn't listening.

It was strange – although I had spent the last 8 hours mentally replaying the morning and holding nothing but earnest hopes for fate to unite us again, in that moment I felt that I would rather be anywhere else in the entire world than in that room to have him see me as part of the student body, seated in the mass, wrapped in my Hogwarts robe. I tried to exude independence and maturity when speaking with him, but how could I possibly continue do so when he knows I'm still a witch-in-training? Couldn't I have just magically disappeared, right then?

Although I knew that at some point we would be forced to see each other face-to-face and acknowledge our enjoyable morning chat, something told me to flee, leave, and postpone that moment as long as I could.

"Let the feast begin!" Dumbledore finally said cheerily.

I took that as my cue to leave. I couldn't possibly eat anything – I felt too strange. As everyone would likely be distracted with their food, I quickly rose from the table and escaped without many people questioning my destination.

"Martha, don't you want to eat?" Jenny called after me.

I just shook my head in response and continued wandering down the long hallway and into the corridor beyond. I didn't know the new Gryffindor common room password, which meant that heading to my dormitory was out of the question. I decided to travel up the stairs and find a much more secluded corridor in which I could be alone to collect my thoughts.

Eventually settling on an empty hallway on the fourth floor, I sat down and buried my face in my knees – tired from not only the stress of the journey, but also the embarrassment of this current situation.

"_Will I ever see you again?" __his eyes widened desperately as I turned to go._

_"Let's leave that to fate, shall we?" I winked back at him and turned to run through the doorframe._

What would he say? How could he possibly take me seriously after realizing I'm a student? Repetitive questions filled my thoughts and clouded my mind. It was only forty minutes, it didn't mean anything. It wouldn't mean anything, especially considering that tomorrow morning I would have to sit in his classroom while he gave a lecture on a hex or magical creature of which we should be wary.

"Martha?"

I gasped loudly as my whole body shook suddenly with fear.

_Remus_.

"I-I-I didn't mean to startle you," he stuttered nervously.

I sat there silently; unsure of what to say and knowing I had the potential to make a great fool of myself by uttering any dialogue. I waited for him to speak.

"I followed you to this corridor," he began calmly. "Why did you not tell me you were a student?"

His tone was not angry, nor blameful, instead it was much softer, more relaxed. He seemed more disappointed than anything, yet he didn't ask in a manner that implied condescension or disgust.

"For the same reason you didn't tell me you were a professor," I replied in a similar tone.

"I see," he replied, nodding his head. "I had a lovely time today. I felt that for the first time in a great while, I had met someone who did not immediately judge me negatively by the scars on my face or my tattered clothing. I felt I had made a friend this afternoon," he slowed down his speech. "I hope you feel the same way."

A friend? Is that all this was? If that's all he felt, I couldn't argue.

"Of course, yeah," I responded, not wanting to show any disappointment considering my mother's face was now in my head reminding me to be brief with my words.

"I suppose now I'm your new professor and you are my student," he held out his hand, for the second time today, as a way of introduction. "Professor Remus Lupin," he smiled.

"Martha Millard," I grasped his hand tightly. For the briefest moment, I brushed my thumb along the back of his hand in a semi-seductive manner. I shot an upward glance at him. He looked into my eyes immediately, thirsty for more forbidden touches.

I knew in that moment, this would be a long year.


	4. Pumpkin Juice and Problems

The next morning I rose from my bed quite a bit earlier than intended. The events of yesterday had not allowed me a peaceful night's sleep. I walked down to the common room, curled up in one of the armchairs and picked up the morning issue of the Daily Prophet.

After about an hour of half-heartedly skimming articles and letting my mind wander further into my imagined hopes and nightmares of the forthcoming class, Jenny came downstairs, obviously questioning my whereabouts.

"Where were you last night? You just left!" she declared abruptly.

"I wasn't feeling very well," I responded. It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the full truth, either. I didn't know how to handle this whole situation. What if something were to become of Remus and me? Could I trust anyone to keep the secrets before anything had even happened?

"This isn't like you! Running away from the feast, staying out until everyone is in bed, and not telling me what is going on! C'mon, Marty, talk to me!" she was pleading now.

Last night after Remus' second introduction, I abruptly left him for the female lavatory. Of course, I stayed inside long enough to be sure he had departed while I stood there and imagined what every day thereafter would be like. I had to keep going back to the one idea that this didn't mean anything. Nothing had happened yet. That's not to say either of us did not want anything to happen, but merely that it hadn't happened yet.

"It's really nothing, Jenny, I'll be fine. Maybe I'll tell you about it someday, but for now, I think I need to brave it alone."

I had told Jenny all my secrets from the time I was eleven until now, yet, even with our dense history, I rarely enjoyed telling anyone any bit of information that may come back to haunt me later. Too many dissolved friendships and my mother's scolding had taught me that life lesson. A Hogwarts scandal between student and Defense Against the Dark Arts professor would certainly fill a spread at the Daily Prophet for a month!

Jenny wore a defeated look of disappointment. She was not a weak girl; rather than being angry with me for not filling her in on gossip and dirt, instead she would become upset to see me suffering and not letting her help lighten my load. I think part of her, too, became genuinely saddened when it appeared I did not trust her with keeping a secret. She always respected me by giving me room to breathe before I was ready to give away any information I held dear to my heart.

"Well, when you're ready to talk, you know where to find me," she smiled a moment later to give a vibe of confidence.

"Thank you, Jenn," I smiled back.

Suddenly the room was disturbed by the sound of feet stomping down the staircase.

"There you are, Marty!" Merilyn said quickly, a tone of concern in her voice. "We thought perhaps you'd been dragged off by a troll or something! Where were you last night?"

Reiterating the excuses I had just given Jenny, minus a few of the promises I made to dish my dirt as soon as I was ready, we mutually decided it was about time to get dressed and head to the Great Hall for breakfast.

My morning meal consisted of toast and eggs – with milk, not the blasted pumpkin juice everyone in Hogwarts adored and fawned over. Since my youth and an unfortunate sickness off my muggle grandmother's pumpkin pie, I have hated anything pumpkin flavored - including the famous pumpkin juice. In fact, the members of Hogwarts loved it so much that if it came down to the choice between saving a professor or the pumpkin juice, I doubt the professor would win.

"What's our first class?" Merilyn finally asked Karin after breakfast, who held the piece of parchment with our schedule of classes on it.

"Defense Against the Dark Arts," she stated; my stomach lurched – why now? Karin quickly added, "I hope our new professor has actually performed at least a few of the spells in the book."

She was referring to Lockhart – our joke of a professor from last year. Rumor has it that his span of knowledge of magic was so small that he accidentally erased his own memory with a defective wand. Although he was undoubtedly handsome to some, I could see right through him before he even came to Hogwarts. I guess I've just been raised to be humble; if you're off doing great things, don't pat yourself on the back, but instead let others do it for you. If your actions are as great as you believe them to be, others will notice and appreciate them. Lockhart praised his efforts too frequently, thus demonstrating that he likely didn't achieve what he said he had.

Questions and chatter were uttered among the four of us as we meandered toward the classroom for our first class of the day.


	5. Riddikulus

Professor Lupin was already waiting for us when we arrived at the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. A handful of other students were filtering in behind us as we took our seats. He smiled widely as I approached. Although it was an innocent gesture to the unsuspecting eye, I knew exactly why he had made an effort to grin at my arrival.

"Welcome, class, welcome! Go ahead and fill in those last two seats there and we'll begin," he motioned toward the two remaining seats to the pair of students approaching them.

"As you may already be aware, my name is Professor Lupin. I am your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher," he smiled again.

"This seventh year class will be a lot more advanced in methods and spells than some of the other classes. We will focus on learning spells and actually using them as we would in combat with an enemy. Since it is our first class session and I don't want to bog you down with studies just yet, so let us have an easy day and review a basic spell. Would you follow me, please?"

He led the classroom down the corridor and to what was presumably the "forbidden" teachers' lounge. As there were no teachers present in the morning hours, he lead the class all the way inside and to an old wardrobe at the far end of the room. Just as the class filed in and settled, the armoire began to shake violently, causing most of the students to jump in surprise and gasp with fear.

"Not to worry, class, it's only a boggart!" Lupin declared cheerily.

Much of the class seemed to sigh a breath of relief; whether it was because they had previously combatted a boggart or were relieved that it was not something more fearsome was unknown.

"Although I was saving this primarily for my third year class this afternoon, I decided that you never can have too much wand practice and thought it best to show all my classes should they ever encounter one outside of Hogwarts," he said with a grin and a wink in my direction.

One by one, the class took turns combating this magical creature. Each student was skeptical and shy at first about revealing their true fear, lest it return to haunt them in the weeks to come, but no one made fun of anyone else. Snakes were turned into shoelaces, blood was turned to pumpkin juice, and spiders were transformed into gumballs.

While everyone paid close attention to the other students and their fears, I couldn't keep my mind or my eyes off of Professor Lupin. He had a kind of youthful energy about his lecture, but somehow seemed inhibited. It was as though he was a young man trapped in an older man's body, but he thought of himself as an old man. I couldn't help but wonder – how did he get those scars? How old was he truly? I stood there and pondered these ideas and more, longing to reach my hand out and trace the scars on his face affectionately, to kiss his soft lips and pay attention to those scars with my tongue. I let these fantasies consume my thoughts for so long that I didn't even notice it was my turn to combat the boggart.

"Martha!"

I stepped forward and cleared my throat, ready to face my nemesis. What would the boggart turn into? At this point, I feared only being alone without Remus. My knees began to shake as he opened the wardrobe. I closed my eyes in fear that I would somehow be embarrassed by the shape shifter's form.

Instead of taking a menacing physical form, the boggart turned into a chilling breeze – moving over me and chilling my dreams so they were nothing but disappointed hopes. Much like the feeling of emptiness the dementors brought to the train – cold, emptiness, and a sense of solitude. I closed my eyes again, nearly shaking with the horrible sensation and just wishing it would flee.

"Riddikulus!" I weakly shouted with a flick of my wand.

The breeze transformed and the entire room began to rain flowers of all colors. I shut my eyes and twirled myself underneath them momentarily, forgetting anyone else was watching me, but delighting in the happiness the new image brought to me.

"I think that's enough for today," Lupin growled slowly as the other students began to file out of the lounge rather quickly, leaving me alone with Remus. My back was turned to him, my index finger tracing my lower lip. I wondered if he would say anything to me or treat me as one of his other students.

"You fear loneliness," he declared abruptly - what should have been asked as a question instead an omnipotent statement. I said nothing, but stood silent, embarrassed that the only thing I wanted no one to know was understood by the one person I least desired to see that side of me.

"Many people fear loneliness, Martha," he said after a moment. "It's nothing to be ashamed of." He began walking slowly toward me, reaching his hand forward and placing it on my shoulder. "However," he began, "you have nothing to worry about. You're a beautiful woman with a deep soul and, I'm quite certain, a talented witch, as well! A man will recognize all of these things one day and be thrilled to call you his own."

I remained quiet – I knew he meant well, but for some reason his words only seemed to aggravate me. Perhaps it was how casually he dismissed the idea that he would ever be the "man" to care for me and love me wholeheartedly. Maybe it was the fact that I felt I had finally found a member of the opposite sex in whom I could confide insecurities and thoughts in and he was more focused on appearances and formalities than pleasure and happiness. Finally, I felt ready to speak.

"I couldn't begin to explain … so that you could understand. I know all of that. I know what a woman deserves. I know. I'm just- oh, it doesn't matter! I've got to go!"

I turned and ran out of the lounge and down the corridor. I dashed into the women's lavatory and threw myself into one of the stalls in a fit of tears. I acted like a fool toward him. He was only trying to help. I was just so embarrassed. He knew that I feared being alone – which defied all of my efforts to appear independent. I had behaved so rudely toward him. In spite of my efforts to try to stop thinking about him, I knew that seeing him consistently would not diminish my affections, but strengthen them with every moment in his presence.


End file.
